A Step Out Of Pretend
by Otaku-Allets
Summary: A simple boy named Oliver Kirkland is just that, simple. He lives with his single dad and life is normal for him. Normality and consistency are what make him content. But when he finds out some truths about his "dad" his happy life will transfigure into a great web of deceit. (2 PARTS)
1. Chapter 1

~~Hello! This is my first fic, there is two parts with both main character's points of view. Thanks and Enjoy!~~

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vv~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{*`* Oliver's Point of View *`*}~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~vv

It was always just us and I always expected it to stay that way. If you're looking for a name I'll just tell you straightaway, it's Oliver Kirkland. I live in a relatively small house in a huge neighborhood with my dad. Another thing about me is that I don't have a mother. My dad has never spoken about her and I can't find the courage in myself to start questioning him. Imagining and guessing are my only choices, so to me she died soon after I was born, or just left us. Even without her, we still have enough money; dad is a boring accountant for a nearby company. When I'm older I'll get a job, but for now I'm just a student at school. Life was peaceful and nice, and I wanted to keep it that way.

You want a visual of us right? Well, I'm tall for my age, blonde hair, blue eyes, and absolutely handsome, well that's what people tell me. My dad on the other hand is pretty short, dirty blonde hair, and with green eyes. I'm also sporty, so I've got muscles, in fact I'm starting football and have to get a new uniform, so dad's having to work more. He been taking night shifts, but that's okay with me. I get to stay up and play video games or watch scary movies. It's only bad when it rains real bad or storms. This night, the local weatherman reported a real bad storm.

The powerful winds and pounding rain kept me awake. Storms were never my favorite creation from Mother Nature. Even when I was small, as soon as the lightning cracked or rain came pouring I made a mad dash to my father. At night I would stay in his bed lying next to him to comfort myself. "Of course I outgrew that by now," I muttered to myself, "it's just another stupid storm." As I was repeating these to myself I walked down a small hallway then suddenly I crashed faced first into a door. As I clutched my throbbing nose I glanced up and realized that I ended up at the door to dad's room. I mentally slapped myself, here I was convincing myself that I was okay with storms now, but I led myself to my place of safety. Then began a mental battle with myself to go inside or head back to my own room, with a sigh I turned the cold handle and stepped inside.

Once I step inside the first thing I notice as unusual is a messy stack of papers spread out on dad's antique desk. That struck me as strange, because he's usually an absolute clean freak. He cleans his room as if the Queen lived in there herself; everything is organized and categorized to its entirety. He nags me to clean my room like his, but I never get to it. "Sloppy is my middle name," I'd huff at him.

He'd give me a look and would retort with, "You idiot, no it's not." He would never leave such noticeable clutter, even in a rush. Covering up a yawn while I walked closed to the disorder I sat down at his favored chair. and scanned the information in front of me. They were boring papers that I assumed were apart of dad's job, but then something caught my eye.

The golden edges weren't what made me look closer. It was a birth certificate with the name "Alfred Jones" crossed out and underneath was my name in black ink, "Oliver Kirkland." I let out the air I didn't know I was holding and shifted the papers. "Why was my name on there," I uttered to no one, "and that was dad's handwriting!" On three other papers were lists of names of people who I've never heard of. As my eyes scanned the tops of the pages something made my heart stop. "Killed and Disposed:" read the top of one, "Taken:" was another, and "Next:" on the last page. Why would father have these papers? My brain strained itself for a reasonable answer.

Another paper made its way into my searching hand. This one though, was a piece of lined paper, written on like a diary entry:

"Another subject ran loose again. What's going wrong with me?! I need to focus, I've got 3 left to kill this month and 8 to kidnap. Scott says I'm losing my touch, but what does he know?! Has he ever been famously known as the 'Silent Killer' or been sought after by the most formidable police and detective force in The States! Hah! He knows nothing; soon I will execute my revenge plan and annihilate all competition. Having his blood run out of his body and taste of defeat will be my glory. The petty citizens' blood will run cold when they find out I'm better than that excuse of a serial killer and that I'm back in business. Of course they've been looking for an older man, living far from where they think I am. I've lived as one of them, how devious of me! My charm and looks fool them, after all that is what they are; fools! The one who deserves to rule is I only I! They _will _understand, I am god.

Arthur Kirkland "

I let out a wailing scream that I've held in for the whole time. "How can this be!" I screeched. Dad isn't some cold-blooded killer! This must be a mistake, or some kind of cruel prank! I fell to the floor, my head spinning like a merry-go-round on steroids. Suddenly his open arms seemed no longer secure or safe, they seemed like ropes trying to strangle me as I came to think if this was true. "Dad never did talk about his past, or my mother, as if he ― that's it," I contemplated in my head, "he must've stolen me." The last part was barely uttered as I came to the realization of what that birth certification meant. As thunder boomed I became aware that I'm not his son ― and he's not my father... My name, and my life, its all a lie!

He's a murderer, and he kidnapped me, does that mean he plans to kill me? So many thoughts burst into my head; I couldn't think straight. One thing kept on repeating itself, "Get out of here, NOW!" I sprinted to my room, still clutching my birth certificate. Seizing my backpack and overfilling it with my necessities, "I have limited time until dad ― no, not dad anymore, _Arthur_ comes back," I corrected myself. As I pulled over a coat left on the bed and raced down the staircase to the front door, I thought, "What about money?" With a hurried look back, I went over and took the stash of emergency money hidden in the pot of the fake flower. As I unlocked the door and took a step outside, I also took a step into a new life.

vv~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{*`* Arthur's Point of View *`*}~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~vv

Feeling weary after a long useless day at work and of course, and terrible rainstorm I was glad to finally be able to come home. I let out a sigh of relief as I slip off my drenched coat and kick off my muddy boots. As I take a look at the digital clock, I see that it's early, so I take my time and without a noise slip up the stairs to my room. Before I enter I go to quick take a peek at Oliver. No matter how old he gets, the lad never stops being startled by a rainstorm. "He always wakes up and has to get me to wake up too ― to comfort him," I chuckle to myself. As I pop my head in through the door I see a sight I don't expect. I know, and to my disappointment, that his room is a pigsty, but not like this. Clothes are scattered around, but none are in his open closet. His bed is also empty.

I zoom up into my room and burst open the door, unlike my usual manners. It was just as I had feared. The papers, _my_ papers, were thrown all over my desk and some on the floor. I tried to remember if I had put those papers away earlier, but my memory had failed me, I hadn't. As I collected them I noticed that the birth certificate was gone. "He must of have seen them," I croaked. "OLIVER!" I hollered, "OLIVER WHERE ARE YOU?" I searched in agony, he was gone; he left. I cursed rather loudly and bit my lip, deciding on what to do now. Grabbing my coat and boots again, this time carrying an umbrella I opened my front door. The wind ripping at my skin, begging me to go back, but I ignored it, for this is too important.

Hours soon passed, then days, and weeks. Still no sign or word of a boy by the name of Oliver Kirkland, or even of Alfred Jones. Dread filled me, where was he, and did he tell anybody about myself? After or before work I would hunt for any information about a tall, young, blue eyed and blonde boy. No news ever greeted me any closer to finding him. I considered reporting a missing child to the police, but that included giving information and I couldn't have any of that. So I'm stuck to walking around and charming people for any gossip about him.


	2. Chapter 2

~Part two! (Peter = Sealand, Scott = Scottland)

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vv~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{*`* Alfred's Point of View *`*}~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~vv

Let me tell you something, sleeping in trees makes your neck ache like crazy! If I were in a different situation, I would've just put on my puppy face and gotten some gentle hearted person to take me in. However, Arthur could have people looking for me or after me himself. Keeping to myself is the best option so far. I've only gotten to the rural part, away from the cities that I'm used to, and closer to the rolling hills, and jagged cliffs. Life was fine for a while the cities, until I heard word of a man searching desperately for a child that ran away. I got so frightened that he was about to catch up to me, that I pack my bags again and rush out of the busy streets, noisy cars, and high life.

This particular day I began exploring the hills and broken off cliffs of my current "home." There was one cliff that made me inch closer. It went upward then dropped low, almost connecting to the other side and another cliff. At the top you could see the city light, and when you looked over the edge, you could see sharp, dangerous rocks looming below. As the long drop down mesmerized me, a sharp cry broke my concentration and made me look up.

Up above on the other cliff, was Arthur. Panic surged through me as I became paralyzed, focusing on Arthur. "W- Why are you here," I barked, "Come to tell more lies or to join you again?" His emerald eyes narrowed and he spoke up after staring for a while.

"SHUT UP! You never let me explain!" Arthur bellowed, over the raging winds.

"Explain what? That you're a psycho? A murder or a kidnapper" I roared with fury. Fear slowly crept back into me and I started making a mental plan on how to get away. For sure he was here to get rid of me if I didn't cooperate with him.

"Wai-" He tried to yell something else but I cut him off, wanting to prove a point.

"Or how about that you were going to kill me, huh 'Father'?!" I sneered mockingly. My terror was fleeing and I was left with rage. How dare he try to "explain" to me, everything was plain and simple: He had kidnapped me as a baby and planned to kill me or use me! Using my silent fuming for a chance to speak he hollered back.

"Would you be quiet for once in your life?! Look, Oli ― Alfred, I -" He spoke and took a step forward, but there was no more land, for the cliff had ended. I watched as his eyes widened, as his body became a lifeless doll and sank down, down, down. He didn't even utter a sound, but I on the other hand, I let out a shriek.

Trying to take a step back and absorb this information, I fell backwards and landed on my bottom. "He was a terrible man he deserved that," I tried to convince myself, "The world is better off without him." All I could think of was my caring and loving father for countless years falling down, down, down. I couldn't even bear to look over the cliff to see his body.

I made the quick decision to report to the police of a dead body. Thought making sure not to tell of any relation to him, just that I heard noises and saw someone there, I also lied about my age. Thank goodness, they believed me, I do look about the age. With the money I had I got a job and an apartment to split the bills with a new friends. I began living as Alfred Jones, but after about a month or two a letter came for me. That was nothing unusual, but that it had my childhood name written on it. "Oliver Kirkland," it read. Locking my door to my room and settling down, but never looking away from the envelope. I acted as if it contained the answers to the world and would disappear if I lost sight of it. Ripping it open I saw that it was an invitation, not to any fancy party or something like that, but to a funeral.

A funeral for Arthur Kirkland.

The wind was as freezing as ice and the snow crunchy the day of the funeral for my "father." Surprising even myself, I bought a suit and set out in the chilly winter evening. I zoned out when people went up and preached the greatness of Arthur, not the person I knew, but the charming man he pretended to be. When only a few people lingered I walked up to his grave and read over his tombstone over and over. It was only until someone bumped into me that I realized I was there for a while. I moved back and apologized to the person behind me.

When I looked at the person I apologized to I saw that it was _Arthur_. I was about to shout something when I noticed a difference. This person had blue eyes, not green. "He must be related to him," I thought to myself.

He smiled at me, "You thought I was Arthur, didn't you? Alas, I'm not. I'm just Peter, a brother of his. One woman even thought that I was him, and had risen from the dead! Can you imagine that?" He paused for a laugh. "And you must be Oliver, since you got my invitation"

"No, I'm Alfred. Alfred Jones," I corrected, wondering on how Peter knew that name.

"Yes, I know that, but I prefer to call you Oliver, since that's what dear Arthur named you" He saw my look of surprise, for he responded that with, "Don't look too surprised, I know all about you, Arthur and I were very close." I tried, I really did, to question him, but I couldn't. "I can bet that you have a lot of question for me like, 'who am I, what was up with Arthur, and how are you so much handsomer than Arthur?' Don't worry I'll explain, that's why I brought you here!" Peter blabbered on an all I could think was that he talked a lot, and was full of himself.

"If you could please explain," I cut him off right in his rant on how much better looking he was then Arthur, "I would be very grateful"

"Why of course," Peter said, "Why don't I start from the beginning? Our family was never close, our parents were fairly wealthy, but never the kind of parents we wanted. There were 3 sons total, Scott, me, and Arthur. Scott was the heir to the money, but instead rebelled and got into gangs and drugs in high school. Our parents disowned him once they found out that he was involved with murder. That got him so angry that he got Arthur into drugs. I was smart enough to not listen to him, to stay on mum's and dad's good side. Once Arthur got involved with drugs, everything went downhill and around that time I left for a "job offer" and to get away. I came back when our parent's funeral. I saw Arthur there and took the chance to talk to him. Things took a turn for the extreme worse; he told me straight to my face that he was a serial killer and kidnapper. Arthur was absolutely mad, he raved about how successful he was and that he was better than Scott. I punched him right in the face and left again," Peter moved his gaze to Arthur's tombstone.

"Then one day I got a call, Arthur wanted me to come to him, I couldn't understand why, but being his brother, I went. When I got to his new apartment I noticed something. He seemed...different. He said to me 'I realized something I should've long ago' and collapsed into my arms. When I brought him into his room and on his bed I saw that there was a crib in his room. In there was a baby. That was you." Peter looked up at me for that last sentence, as if to emphasize it.

"Soon after he woke up and explain to me what had happened. He stopped the drugs for a while, but still drunk on the way back to his apartment he heard wailing in an alley. As he investigated he found a baby, lying in a cardboard box. Still not thinking straight he picked him up and held him, and to his surprise the baby stopped crying and instead laughed. Arthur made it to his apartment safe with the baby and fell asleep with him still in his arms. When he was awake and sober, he decided to keep the baby. He changed his ways for the baby, which he named Oliver Kirkland. Even though I disapproved of him keeping some child in need of a mother, not some maniac, I saw the way Arthur acted around him. He changed him, and that's when we grew closer I sent him money to help and he raised the child as his own." Peter smiled once more at me and walked through the snow away from the grave.

I couldn't do anything, just stay still and stare. It was like when Arthur had died, I'm powerless and guilty. Sinking to my knees I sat there as snow began to fall once more and night overtook day. As tears I swore wouldn't fall started cascading down, I started losing my balance.

"Hold on there," comforted Peter, grabbing on to me and helping me up and stand straight. "Don't think that I'll leave you here without nothing"

"What do you mean?" I questioned him, wiping away tears from my eyes.

He then explained, "I'd like to make you a preposition, come with me to find Scott. I can provide you with what you need. Or you could act like this never happened and live with no money to live, place to stay, and you aren't even 18." When he finally finished he let go of my arms and gave a smile that looked too much like a smirk.

"It sounds as if you're trying to threaten me," I start to reason, and I notice his eyes starting to narrow, "but I'll have to take you up on that offer." As a sign of agreement I hold out my hand to shake.

"Thank you Oliver dear, and don't you worry, He crooned as he whipped up his hand shook my own, "_you're in good hands." _With handshake I made a pact I knew would make life would become difficult and risky. On the other hand, when was life ever easy?

_**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{*`*THE END*`*}~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**_

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Thank you so much for reading! Please review, I'd love any feedback!


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